The Painted Veil

Only 3 weeks left until surgery and my head is hurting more than my guts at the moment. The past few weeks have been about recovery, healing and preparation for the operation to remove a section of my diseased colon. I desperately needed to salvage my summer, most of which has been spent in treatment or convalescence. The twins and I stayed at my brother Zhivago and Toni's house for a few weeks and there was no end to the comedy! We had a townhouse stuffed with 3 adults, 3 kids, 2 cats, and a toy rat terrier to make things merry. I came out of the bathroom early one morning and Toni asked me, "Did you go poo?" A split second later, I arrived at the realization that she was talking to one of the babies, and not me- even though she was inadvertently looking directly at me when she said it. Considering all the problems I've been having lately, it really was a valid question so I didn't fault her for the startling inquiry into the success of my bowel movement. The very next day, Toni told me authoritatively to, "Go outside and go potty!" Again, she was looking at me, but talking to Doe, their little dog. But Toni does not have a monopoly on ill-timed, yet hilarious one-liners. Feeling obligated to eat a Gardenburger the other day, I tried desperately to swallow the first bite. My carnivorous brother quipped, "That's your first mistake- your lunch does not have a soul." These hapless moments keep things jovial in a house packed full of people and pets.

But trying to stay positive and actually feeling good about things are sometimes mutually exclusive. The very phrase "staying positive" denotes an effort to find comfort in an uncomfortable situation. This is what I call The Painted Veil. The picture of happiness you present in order to put everyone (including yourself) at ease, and the truth behind the curtain when you stand alone with your thoughts. There are times when I can truly savor things like a great moment spent with family or a brief surge in my energy level. But it's not the same as being able to enjoy it as I once did when I was fully possessed of my good health. And when you are already slowed by illness, there is no worse nag than worry. Sometimes, trouble comes upon us so thickly that unbidden tears slip and burn before we can stop ourselves; extinguishing joy, snuffing it out like a light. The world is full of friends, but we all feel at times that crushing loneliness that blights the happiness that we might otherwise feel. We are sometimes solitary in our sorrow because sympathy carries you only as far the painted veil you put up for others. The company of friends and family can be a salve to our wounds, but we can still bleed under the bandages.

When I can't sleep at night, I roam the halls like a ghost or lie in bed staring at the walls hoping that deep slumber can make me forget everything that is troubling my waking hours. After my mom passed 12 years ago, my dreams consistently revealed dark, quiet rooms where she would lay in her sick bed. I could never talk with her- or at least she would never answer me, and she always looked pale and gaunt as she did in those final days of her struggle with cancer. These dreams usurped my nocturnal sojourns for years, until one night I had a visitation dream that finally assuaged my abiding grief. I looked across the length of a moonlit pool of clear water. On the other side, my mom and my long-deceased grandfather sat at a table playing cards together! My mom actually smiled and waved back at me. I woke up choking with tears, truly knowing that she had finally crossed over and was no longer sick, in a better place, reunited with her own father. She looked radiant, healthy, no longer emaciated and tired-looking, her hair was full again. And best of all, she had acknowledged my presence in this dream so I knew that she was telling me that she was ready to let us go and she was finally happy now. The remembrance of this dream still reduces me to racking sobs, even as it lifts me up and frees me from the grief I held inside for so long after losing her.

So when I am feeling down or troubled, I remember that dream because nothing can ever make me feel as aggrieved and elated at the same time. It would be unrealistic to think that we can be happy all the time, even if that's how we front to the world. And even though our life may be filled with good things and loved ones, there is a lonely corner that sorrow reserves for you behind the painted veil. Be kind to everyone you meet, because they may be facing a harder battle. -Plato